by JD Lovil
The group was tired, and sort of emotionally exhausted with the histories that they had witnessed. Vera and Markus agreed with Tom that it was apparent from the start that Charla was going to die on this trip. She was exactly like one of the Red Shirts on the Star Trek series of your choice. As a second string Red Shirt, there was just no way that she could possibly survive an away mission.
Tom found that the bed that he and Karla had that night was nice and fluffy, soft and sleep inducing. He barely had the strength left to disrobe the softness that was Karla, almost had insufficient concentration to kiss each nipple and set of lips that he found on her disrobed form, and he had the almost unmanly urge just to cuddle her up close and sleep. He manned up, however, and gave her a proper shagging, which he considered the proper salute for any man to give a proper lady with all the appropriate lady parts.
Soon enough, the pair of them were being held hostage in the land of Nod, while the dog and his pet possum stood guard over them. The possum had actually become used to the dog by this time, and the animal was easily bribed by a sizable chicken part to be almost social. He hardly ever hissed at Bailey anymore. Bailey was an obvious pushover, even to cats and possums.
Tom woke the next morning to discover that he and Karla had passed the night in a spooned position, with the possum lying stretched out on the sheet above their feet, and Bailey stretched out on the floor at the foot of the bed. He got up, and tousled one head of female hair, and two fur covered heads about the ear area. He then wandered into the kitchen to see to a pot of coffee and some food.
A few moments later, Karla wandered into the kitchen wearing her sheer panties and even sheerer bra. She gave Tom the opportunity to verify that she was not a quart low, then they both settled down to a cup of decent Columbian coffee. Bailey came into the room, with the possum actually following, and Tom could have sworn at one point that the marsupial actually rubbed up against the canine. At any rate, the two animals were getting along.
Markus and Vera came into the kitchen for some breakfast and coffee, and when Markus noticed Karla’s state of undress, his eyes threatened to bug out, and Vera began to look very tight-lipped and vindictive, until finally Tom took a second to retrieve one of his shirts for Karla to slip on. After the wardrobe addition, the atmosphere in the kitchen slowly became less tense. In twenty minutes, the four of them were talking and laughing normally while eating another egg, toast and bacon breakfast. Bailey and the possum also received a couple of bacon strips each.
By half past eight they had all eaten their fill of the breakfast, and drank their fill of the coffee. They could hear the Sage rustling about in the parlor, so they all regained their feet, and wandered slowly into the parlor. The Sage was wearing a purple bathrobe with red dragons and little yellow unicorns on it. While Tom suspected that the Sage took something in life seriously, his position as an authority figure was certainly not one of the serious things.
They all took seats in the easy chairs in front of the office desk that the Sage was lounging against. The Sage slouched back even more on the desk, until it seemed inevitable that he would be showing his Junk to the females among the company. He appeared to be sardonically anticipatory about the prospect of doing so, until Karla stood up and whispered something into his ear. He grew quite pale, and arranged himself into a more modest position.
When Karla sat back down beside Tom, he whispered the question of what she told the Sage. “I told him that if I see his Junk, I will cut it off.” She responded. Tom smirked and sat back. Karla was definitely a girl after his own heart!
“As I mentioned last night, in order to stabilize the worldline reality, we need to do a few things.” The Sage lectured. “First, we need to fix the linchpin events in the timeline. You did that last night. Second, you need to gather together the trans-reality tools to bring to the Place of Beginnings. Third, we need to find the Place of Beginnings, which is hid among the shadows of this worldline’s past. You will search out the correct Place. Fourth, we will need to bring the group of you, and the tools to the Place of Beginnings to reset the worldline reality.”
He went on to say that this will be a somewhat involved process, and they would be visited by a few people with special skills that ‘were not from around here’. He also cautioned that the process of the reset would be a little like overcoming the inertia from rolling a lead ball about. It would be hard at first, because the consensus reality created by the billions of people on this planet would tend to pull reality toward the present format because they would resist the change at first, until the change begins to work on them as well.
The Sage went on to say that fixing this worldline would be much harder than simply scrapping it and going to another worldline, but he really didn’t get into how one goes about making that trip. Plus, he suggested that leaving this worldline unrepaired would lead to a string of problem worldlines down the line.
He said that getting all four cosmic tools was essential to repairing the ‘shadow’, although he believed that someone called ‘The Guardian’ might be able to repair it without the tools. At any rate, he said that he had something to do for the rest of the day, so the four of them were cordially invited to check out the University campus. Translation according to Tom was that the Sage needed to watch a little internet porn, so he wanted the judgmental eyes of the individuals of the human persuasion to get the hell out, so that he could masturbate in peace. Tom was willing to concede that this was only a guess, but it fit the conversation.
Leaving the spiritually advanced Sage to his own devices, the four of them loaded up the two animals, and departed for the gates of the great Southern Arkansas University. They had all noted that there was a mysterious change of feelings when they originally crossed the boundaries of the town of Magnolia, and it redoubled when they crossed over into the university property.
Soon enough, the group discovered one of the more idiotic of Southern moral codes. The county was what is known as a ‘dry’ county, meaning that the sales of Alcohol were illegal in the county. The natural consequence of such a law was that, while one could not find a source of beer as a tourist, the natives could and did score massive amounts of liquor, making the ratio of drunks to sober men among the highest in any culture. This meant that they were lucky to have an adequate supply of beer and whiskey in the RV.
Soon enough, Karla had discovered that one of the off campus Fraternities had a party going on that night. What they didn’t know is that they had invited the group, not just the pretty girl. Needless to say, the four of them gained entry into the party, and for a couple of hours, it went very well, up until the drunken Frat Bro took a swing at Tom.
Tom and Karla had been sitting at the patio table in the back of the frat house, after cutting a piece of the cake on the table for themselves, and nursing another of those illegal beers. The Frat Boy came staggering up to the table, and attempted to put some moves on Karla. Fair enough, Tom thought that she could handle herself. After she made it clear that she wasn’t into drunken assholes, the Frat Boy decided that it was time to pick a fight with Tom. Bad mistake. Tom evaded the clumsy punch aimed at his face.
“Fighting is not a game.” Tom said mildly. He proceeded to pick up the kitchen knife that he had used to carve off the pieces of cake, and stabbed the Frat boy in the eye. The victim rocked backward in an almost mechanical motion, before collapsing backwards to the lawn. Tom carefully wiped down the knife with a nearby paper towel, before throwing it into the pond just beyond the yard.
“It is time for us to go.” Tom said. Karla seemed a bit shaken by the recent event, but just a little excited, as well. A few moments later, they retrieved Markus and Vera from the party by saying that they were ready for a shot of coffee in a cafe setting. Thirty minutes later, they were indeed sitting in that cafe, drinking that coffee. Soon enough, they got into conversation about the business at hand.
“I am not entirely certain that I understand how I went from looking for a new place to b
e, to somehow being responsible for the worldline reality.” Tom said, as the others nodded in agreement. “But somehow, it also sounds true. I don’t think that I can walk away from this ‘mission’, even though it is not my usual cup of tea.”
“I know what you mean.” Markus agreed. “This isn’t even really my world, but I feel like I need to see this through as well.”
Everyone agreed that they felt like this task before them was something that they needed to do, even if none of them could find a good, self-serving reason for doing so. It just seemed like something that needed to be done, and nobody could get away from the consequences of it not being done.
The waitress came up to check on them. “Any of y’all want any pie?” She asked. Everyone told her that they were good. Tom for one still was digesting that piece of cake that he had earlier. A little later on, they did order a hamburger each, more to justify occupying the table this long than because of hunger.
They all got back to the RV by about 12:30 A.M., and shortly after that, they were snoring in whatever key their noses were attuned to, in the guest beds of the Sage. Shortly after nine A.M. the next morning, they were on their way to the great city of Camden, where they were destined to see the Herald of Cernunnos, whoever that was.
******
16 The Tourists
The RV jostled along State Route 79 toward their appointment to see the Herald of Cernunnos. The Sage had been cagey about just whom the Herald was, other than to mention that he wasn’t a normal fellow like the Sage. This he said while wearing his purple dragon and unicorn jammies. He was willing to fill the group in on what or who Cernunnos was.
Cernunnos was an ancient Gallic Celtic stag horned deity, who originally came across the shadow worlds to this brane of worldlines from the First City, where at the time; he was a King, before the Lord Baron became the Stewart of the City State. He was a sorcerer of great power, and became an aspect of the wooded lands in the near worlds.
Cernunnos had long since retired to some obscure corner of the shadow worlds, but the Herald would occasionally appear to do the horned god’s work, or to precede his rare visits to the places of Man. The Sage assured the group, that in this case, the Herald was present to do both jobs.
They only had about forty miles of travel to get to Camden from the time warp of a city that was Magnolia. Everyone in the RV agreed that there was a strangeness surrounding that fair city, when they were questioned on the subject. Even though Tom was not particularly apprehensive about consequences to his actions, still he was happy to remove himself from the proximity of his last kill.
Somewhere, Markus had picked up a guitar, and Vera had something that sounded like an electronic variation of a ukulele, and the pair of them subjected the ears of the voyagers to the torturous frequencies dispensed by those instruments. Even the possum seemed prepared to render a negative review of the performance.
Soon enough, to the relief of the audience of the impromptu concert from hell, the RV arrived at the oil central town of Camden, home to Defense contract companies and the aforementioned oil companies. When they pulled the RV up to the map-quested location of the current domicile of the Herald, they were treated to the sight of a long block building, which was built in the form of a square, so that it had court gates into the center, and the ‘walls’ of the court were composed of the building itself.
As they got out of the RV, they were treated to the sight of an actual drawbridge gate being lowered, allowing them access to the compound. Tom was tempted to drive the RV inside, but he was pretty sure that the Herald was not inviting them to do that. Tom did make a mental note to ask the Herald why there was no mote around the compound to go with the drawbridge. Sharks or crocodiles would have made for a very classic atmosphere.
When they got inside the compound, they were greeted by a man who resembled a middle aged Robin Hood wearing Armani instead of forest green tights. Greeted may have been too intense a term for what they received. The man came out, looked at the group, nodded, and turned around and walked toward an open door. Tom assumed that they were to follow him, having no information to the contrary.
When Tom entered the room, which seemed to be a combination kitchen and living room, the man was leaning back on a chair, gulping down a sliver of blueberry pie. Tom did not see any more available pie, so he took it upon himself to go to the fridge to see if there was any beer or other goodies in there to eat or drink. He had to settle for a beer.
They all settled into chairs, and waited for the taciturn man to talk. For a while, they waited in limbo while the man chewed slowly. Finally, he finished the bite, and as they all leaned forward with anticipation, he dusted off his lap, and then he leaned back and lit a smoke. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“Hi.” He said. As everyone looked at him expectantly, he looked back at them serenely, as though he expected them to brief him on the next step. Tom thought that he could play that game as well as anyone, so he kicked back and gazed into the odd man’s face. He thought he saw a flicker of reaction in the Herald’s face when Tom put his arm around Karla, and cupped a breast affectionately.
“I guess that long haired asshole sent you guys to see me.” The Herald said. “I’m supposed to send you off into a tour of the associated worldlines, so that you can see how it hangs together, and look for your special magic toys.”
“Hey, Harry.” Tom asked. “Where are we supposed to launch from, here?”
“The name’s not Harry and I get to have the pleasure of sending you all off into the fog. If I’m lucky, you’ll get lost.”
“Yeah. Tell us again why we are doing this, and why we have to put up with bull like that?” Markus asked. “I didn’t even hear anyone offer us minimum wage.”
“You should be doing it for the joy of a job well done.” The Herald quipped. It was funny, but as the conversation got more acrid, the Herald seemed to be warming up to his visitors.
He went on to tell his visitors that he would ‘cast a spell’ or tinker with the quantum states of the group (it was two ways of saying the same thing) that would send them on a random walk through several nearby shadow earths, following a route determined by the associations between the shadows. They should observe the variations they saw, and look for the common elements that would be present in all of them. Once they knew the relationship between shadows, they would be able to recognize the ‘place of beginnings’, which essentially would be the equivalent of a root directory in a directory listing.
“I would now like to introduce another guest of mine, the Sorcerer of Hait.” The Herald continued. “He will work with me to cast the spell that will send you on your journey.”
A shadow formed in the back of the room, and advanced toward the front where the Herald stood. When it had advanced to a point three feet away from his left side, it coalesced into a form, that of a man that could best be described as a man of gray and brown. Gray was his clothing, and brown was his hair and his eyes. Something was wrong with his outline. Things kept changing, but nobody could put a finger on what was changed. That, and the way his eyes flashed when he flashed a smile to the group ensured that all who saw him knew that he was unique.
“We are all here. Without further ado, let us get started.” The Herald exclaimed. He snapped his fingers, and with that, the surroundings started to blur and shimmer, as though an unseen mist was emanating from the Herald and the Sorcerer. Soon, all the group could see was each other, everything else was mist.
The mists began to pulse, as though it was a breathing process. Breathe in, and the outer world is concealed. Breathe out, and the outer world is there, but each time somehow changed. In the first such breath, the four of them saw the cinder blocks had changed to rough-hewn stone, and the window now was a bar secured open air opening. Breathe in, and the mists return, breath out, and now they are surrounded by a fairy meadow under a moonlit sky, with odd balloon like creatures floating in the air overhead.
The mists return, and then the worl
d is a place of humid jungle vines, and they see a snake slither away in obvious panic. With the next breath, they see a bustling airport all around them, and some sort of spacecraft looking vehicles in the near distance. The next breath brings a cobbled street and the stench of outhouses lining the street leading by residential mansions.
The scenes start coming faster and faster, and the four of them can sense a progression of sorts beginning to take shape. First the panorama of worlds covered virtually every imaginable possibility. Now, like pages of a book, they were being shown in an order of sorts, each one was different from the former one by a single event result. Thousands of worlds paraded past, some with but three of them in it, some with five, some with subtle changes to the landscape, each successive one only slightly different from the former scene.
Seen this way, it was easy to imagine that one could follow the path of changes all the way back to some place where all of these variations originated, some version of the ‘Place of Beginnings’. All of these exciting changes kept Bailey’s attention rapt upon it, while the possum studiously ignored it all while grooming a small patch of fur on his left front thigh. Karla, Markus and Vera were at least as rapt on the changing worldscape around them as was the dog.
There was a sensation of the presence of the Sorcerer and the Herald around them, but they were nowhere to be seen, nor had they been since the first moment of the panorama. The progression of worldscapes had advanced to the point where most of the worlds shown were high technology, usually space faring worlds. The group watched as huge long range planetary and even interstellar craft left and arrived on the much changed earths of their reality.
It was as they watched a double ringed warp vessel leaving the station viewpoint for 26 Draconis, according to the display that the group had within view, that they began to encounter some resistance to their journey. The cycle progress started being ‘stuck’ in certain places, the group saw a few scenes that they had already seen previously reoccur. The group started to sense a glue-like stickiness to the process as this occurred.